No One Can Hurt Him Anymore. Scott Cupp
asleep watching Bonanza and, uh . . . and I didn’t wake up until I got up to . . . uh . . . I was going to have a piece of cheese and I was thirsty and he usually shuts his door when he goes to bed and it was opened....
Waites (patiently): Okay.
Jessica: And I called him, and there was no answer.
Waites: Then what happened after that?
Jessica (answering with more confidence): I searched the house and the garage, and then I woke my husband up. Waites: And after you woke your husband up?
Jessica: Well, he wasn’t really awake, you know; I got him out of a sound sleep. And he sees A.J. in the pool and says, “Oh, my God,” and jumped in the pool. Waites: Uh-huh.
Jessica: I didn’t look.... I . . . I caught a . . . I don’t know where he was in the pool or what position or anything. I didn’t get that close. Waites: Hmmm.
Cupp thought it was an interesting answer. A qualification that wasn’t necessary. Why would she do that?
Jessica: The next thing I saw was David carrying him out and then I went to the bathroom and threw up.
(Waites then took her through the rules of the pool, when the kids were allowed to swim and when they weren’t. Were they allowed to swim naked? Were they allowed to dive?)
Waites: When A.J. was found, he didn’t have any clothing. Had he ever before gone in the pool without clothing? Jessica: Yes. They all had.
Waites (surprised): They had?
Jessica: Yeah.
Waites: So that’s nothing that would be . . .
Jessica: Well, it wasn’t a practice.... They made a game out of it and, you know, they got thrown in with their clothes on. And I’ve turned around and—all of a sudden—their clothes were off—bathing suits were off—and . . . I mean, it wasn’t a habit, but they made a game out of it a few times.
Waites shifted gears and asked her about the counseling A.J. was receiving, about his guardian ad litem, and about the intervention of the Department of Health and Rehabilitative Services.
In the guardian ad litem program, the court assigns guardians to individual children who—for whatever reason—have their young lives brought before a judge. Divorce, abuse, delinquency, the distribution of a trust—many matters can lead to the need for a guardian. The guardian was to work for one overriding concern: the best interest of the child.
Cupp was intrigued by the way Jessica answered the questions: the incessant rambling as she jumped from one thought to the other, as if every question were an attack. The lack of sorrow—it was absent from her words and indiscernible in her voice—and the defense mechanisms as she fended off questions about A.J.’s numerous interactions with psychologists and social workers.
Waites: You told me earlier that A.J. was in counseling. And that was at South County in Delray?
Jessica: Yeah.
Waites: How often would the guardian [ad litem] come?
Jessica: Every two weeks and he’d call a lot and he’d stop by. He came over and gave all the kids Easter baskets.
Waites: How did it come about? The guardian ad litem?
Jessica: He was court-appointed. To follow up on, uh, how he was doing in school. To talk to him—how he was, um, how he was at home, how he was at school—if he had any problems. I mean, he’d take him out for walks, you know, just.... He talked to us, but it was mainly A.J.
Waites: You also said earlier that HRS had been out to the house before—is that associated with the guardian?
Jessica: Yes, the social worker would talk to the guardian. The social worker would come and check on the kids—A.J.—and talk to us. And she was trying to help him be back on Medicaid because we couldn’t afford the counseling.
Waites: How long has A.J. been going to counseling?
Jessica: Over a year, but his counselor went on to a different job—so they were short a counselor—so he hadn’t been in a couple of weeks. But two weeks ago, he went to the psychiatrist and he said he would call this week coming up—with, hopefully, they would have hired another counselor.
Waites: Okay. The psychiatrist—is that down in Delray? South County?
Jessica: There’s only one down there, yeah, that takes care of all of them.
Waites: Have there been problems in school?
Jessica: Not that I . . . no.
Cupp sensed that she wanted to answer quickly, but her voice suggested she knew that straight-out lying wasn’t a good idea.
Jessica: A.J. had problems on and off. Waites (encouraging her): Uh-huh.
Jessica: Now, um, I’m going to tell you that for a long time I didn’t get along with his teacher. Then we all had a meeting.
Cupp made a mental note to have Waites contact A.J.’s teacher as soon as possible.
Jessica (continuing): The guardian, the teacher, me, David, HRS, and we came to a very good understanding. What was happening was that A.J. was leaving for school at seven-thirty and not getting there until eight-thirty. And nobody told me right off the bat—like it wasn’t important that I know. They waited till, like, report card day to write it [up], and I had no idea. And then, um, we set up [this meeting]. He was eating his snack on the way to school. I finally got a note home saying, “Please send him with a snack,” and I wrote a note back saying, “I do send him with a snack—every day.” And he had his name on the board a couple of times . . . nothing . . . nothing serious, and his grades were okay.
The words rolled off her tongue. Cupp had to remind himself that this was a woman whose stepson had been found dead less than five hours ago.
Jessica: He could concentrate.... I mean, he could hold his concentration long enough to get his grades, study. . . . [They were] a little up and down, but nothing . . . so the teacher and I were writing notes back and forth five days a week. I would write [her].... She would write a note on Monday, seal it in an envelope, and [have him] bring it to me. A.J. didn’t like that.
Jessica didn’t want to let go of school and snacks, but Waites finally diverted her when he asked about A.J.’s guardian ad litem, a gentleman named Richard Zimmern.
Richard Zimmern was a retired pediatrician, who was originally from Stamford, Connecticut. He left his practice in 1989, after thirty-five years, and retired to Florida. He volunteered time to the guardian ad litem program in Palm Beach County. A.J. was fortunate to have the doctor assigned to him during the summer of 1992—for the last eleven months of his short life.
Jessica: A.J. came [to us] equipped with a guardian ad litem. He had one in Fort Lauderdale because—
Waites: Oh, okay.
Jessica (adding quickly): That’s where it all started.
Scott Cupp was still listening for the smallest morsel of grief, and wondered if what came next passed for it.
Jessica: I don’t believe we’re sitting here talking about him [in] the past [tense]. Um, anyway, everything started in Fort Lauderdale.
Cupp tried to judge the quality of the brief reference to A.J.’s passing. He wanted to give the woman the benefit of the doubt.
Waites: Okay. What type of problems had there been in Fort Lauderdale?
Jessica: Sex. He was sexually abused, physically abused, mentally abused.... Um, the mother was—she had both of her kids dealing crack. She’d stuff their pockets and tell them where to go and she trained them to lie. A.J. could lie just like his mother. He could look you right in the eye and lie, and swear to God on it, and cry on it, and insist on it. And it was like trying to deprogram somebody. And her husband—her second husband—is in jail for the sexual abuse. I